


how to put it into words

by bistiles (alis)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent & Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alive Hale Family, Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, College Student Stiles, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Pining, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Post-it Notes, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alis/pseuds/bistiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a college student in need of a place to live. Derek is a grad student with a room to spare. Being roommates isn't easy, but they manage between Post-It notes and mutual understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bubbly (jeely)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeely/gifts).



> So, this fic became way longer than I predicted, being as of now a 20K monster still in the making. I apologize for only posting this first chapter; but I promise to update soon (mostly because I already have way more written :P )
> 
> Tags will be updated as I go. Chapter count is estimated.
> 
> Thank you [meninaemilia](meninaemilia.tumblr.com) for the plot, [pale-silver-comb](http://pale-silver-comb.tumblr.com/) for helping me flesh out the plot a lil bit more, and [acountrygirlsfun](http://acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/) for the beta!

Sharing an apartment with Derek Hale was different from what Stiles first imagined it would be. Scott wanted him to move out because of Kira moving in so Stiles was thrown into apartment hunting. His first impression of Derek Hale was that he was this weird uptight guy, that might smother him in his sleep if he pissed him off enough.

As it is, Derek turns out to be this weird not-so-uptight guy that has covered Stiles with a blanket when he fell asleep studying in the kitchen table.

It would be so much easier for Stiles to not like Derek if it wasn’t like that.

Even though it wasn’t like this from the start.

♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️

“Uh, hey, Derek, right?”

Stiles sat down in the empty chair across the coffee shop table from Derek, offering an excited wave and dropping his worn out messenger bag on the floor next to him as he sits. It was their first meeting after exchanging some emails and a couple text messages. Stiles was hoping to make a good enough impression to win Derek over; he really needed to get out of the apartment with Kira and Scott.

“Yeah. Stiles, I presume,” Derek answered, shaking Stiles’ hand briefly, but strongly, before eyeing him with what was probably borderline distrust. It would be more offensive if Stiles didn’t already know what to expect from the guy. Well, mostly.

Stiles only knew Derek by proxy, or at least by name, since Boyd was best friends with the guy, apparently. And since Boyd dated Erica, and Erica and Stiles were thick as thieves as friends from day one of college; Stiles heard stories.

College was a smaller world than it seemed to be looking at it from the outside; even if you were only minimally social.

What Stiles knew was limited: he was older than Stiles by about five years, had a major in Literature, a minor in English and was going for his master’s degree. He was known for being incredibly good-looking, which Stiles could attest to, and for being everybody’s favorite teaching assistant. According to Stiles’ sources, Derek was borderline shy, but diligent. He always answered emails within at least two hours after he received them and he seemed always intent to help people with their class issues.

Stiles knew that both by Erica’s account and because Stiles may or may not have taken Classic Literature because of Derek.

He wasn’t disappointed.

“So…what do you want to talk about? You told me you wanted to meet me in person before making any decisions. Did you meet any of the other candidates already?” Stiles asked, as he fiddled with the napkins on the table.

He was nervous and empty handed and that made him fidgety. He should have bought a coffee before sitting down.

“I want to know what kind of competition I will be facing,” he admitted.

Derek observed him closely as he rambles which was slightly unnerving. When he answered though, it was in a completely normal tone.

“There are no other candidates,” Derek explained and Stiles didn’t disguise his pleasure at the information.

“Really? Wait, I thought you were talking to other people beside me. At least, you said so in one of your emails.”

Stiles had gotten the information about the sublet from Boyd, but Derek had put an ad on the cafeteria board. And Derek had mentioned that other people had answered to his ad to get a roommate.

“I dismissed all of them. It’s only you that’s left, really.”

“Oh. Why did you dismiss them all?”

Derek shrugged, like it didn’t matter and for a moment he didn’t answer taking a drink of his coffee instead. Stiles mentally berated himself again for not buying himself a damn coffee to occupy his hands.

Maybe his longing for coffee was so obvious that he made a soft sound as Derek put his cup down.

“Didn’t you get some for yourself?” Derek asked, looking puzzled, “I remember you mentioned and I quote, ‘your undying love and extremely dependent relationship with coffee’. One of your first questions about the apartment was if I had a coffee maker,” Derek said, failing to deadpan by the small smile on his face.

Stiles laughed out loud, both surprised and amused that Derek remembered that.

“Dude, coffee is _so_ important in my life. Most time it has no effect or it makes me sorta sleepy, but I just love it.”

“Coffee makes you sleepy?”

“Sort of? I mean, I have ADHD. Coffee doesn’t do much for me on a good day,” Stiles explained as he watched Derek for some negative reaction to the ADHD mention, but Derek just nodded not looking like he particularly cared.

Stiles had encountered his fair share of people who didn’t believe ADHD was real or they believed that Stiles was just faking it for drugs. So it was a little bit of a relief that Derek wasn’t one of those people.

“Anyway,” Stiles continued, feeling much more confident, “I still love coffee. I think it sort of has a placebo effect on me now. I believe it wakes me up and it does!”

Derek didn’t exactly laugh, but he gave a cute amused chuckle that made Stiles feel weirdly proud of himself.

“Well far be it from me to keep you from your one true love then,” Derek said, gesturing to the small line at the cashier. “Go grab yourself some coffee. I can wait while they make it.”

“Oh, cool then! I’ll be right back!”

When Stiles got back, bringing with himself two blueberry muffins in case Derek wanted one, they resumed their talk. Derek didn’t touch the muffin, even when Stiles offered it, but declined it politely. It wasn’t awkward though once they started to talk about other things, like college, career paths, and hobbies.

Derek seemed to be a huge nerd, and Stiles knew that was true from the few pictures of the apartment Derek had sent to him before they were to meet. There were many bookcases and shelves filled with books of all shapes and sizes. That had been, if Stiles was honest, one of the reasons he had felt so attracted to Derek’s place. It wasn’t that big, or anything, but it had books all about and Stiles respected someone who had love for books.

“Oh damn, look at the time,” Derek said suddenly, looking at the coffee shop window and then fishing his phone out of the pocket to check the time.

The afternoon had gone by without Stiles noticing. It was even starting to get dark outside and the street lamps were already on. He startled, surprised that they had managed to talk for what? three hours straight?

“Well, crap, I had an essay to write this afternoon,” Stiles moaned slapping himself on the forehead. There would be no sleep for him that night.

“Anyway…”

“Yes,” Derek said simply and Stiles blinked in confusion.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, you can move in,” Derek elaborated and Stiles had to contain himself not to whoop in happiness.

“I will be busy all day Friday with classes, but I think Saturday morning will be okay for you to bring your things over, if that works for you?”

Stiles couldn’t stop himself from smiling so big it hurt as he nodding an affirmative.

♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️

Stiles moved in on Saturday morning, bringing his possessions to his new residence with Scott and Erica in tow. Scott had been his bro and obviously volunteered to help him pack and haul his things to his new apartment. Stiles supposed there was a strong element of Scott feeling a little bit guilty about displacing Stiles from their shared place anyway. Erica had come along because she self-proclaimed herself curious about the proceedings but didn’t help carry in even one box.

Stiles had kept in contact with Derek since they already had each other’s phone numbers. Derek didn’t answer texts as often as Stiles expected him to, but he was helpful nonetheless. They had confirmed the date already but Stiles texted Derek before leaving his apartment with Scott to let him know that they were on their way over just in case.

Derek met them at the building’s entrance with an elegant leather backpack slung over his shoulder and looking ready to go out.

“Oh hey, Derek,” Stiles greeted, already waving with one hand since the other one was carrying the first box of his things.

“What’s up?”

“Hello,” Derek greeted back, nodding politely at Scott.

Erica bypassed both guys to give Derek a kiss on the cheek, leaving a faint smear of red on his stubbled cheek.

“Hi, Erica.”

“Hi! Where are you going?” Erica asked, patting the backpack with her red fingernails, “Running from moving duty?”

“You’re one to talk,” Scott grumbled, “You didn’t help at all.”

“Quiet, McCall. This is a muscle job. I am here just to supervise,” Erica sniffed sensibly and Derek smiled.

He had such a nice smile, Stiles thought, without managing to stop himself.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave the heavy lifting to you guys,” Derek said, his smile becoming more playful, “I have a meeting with my adviser, so I have to go.”

“Oh,” Stiles exclaimed barely concealing his disappointment, “I thought you said you were free today?”

“I was actually, but she changed our meeting day and I can’t _not_ go to it. But here is your set of keys,” Derek extended a simple set of keys with a small key-chain attached, a wolf paw.

“I left a note pinned on the fridge with some things we should discuss about the apartment. If you need me you can call me, but I am not sure I’ll be able to pick up. But I’ll try to return your call as soon as I can.”

Stiles nodded dumbfounded, got the keys from Derek, and waved goodbye as he disappeared inside his flashy black Camaro in the parking lot.

“You’re not even trying to mask up your disappointment, Batman,” Erica laughed as she hip checked him.

It was…disappointing. Stiles had liked their first exchanges, had enjoyed the visit they had in the coffee shop and even the subsequent texts they exchanged. So what if Stiles had maybe created a few expectations about how things would go moving in? Could anyone even blame him for that?

“I just thought we would have an extra pair of hands. That’s all.”

Stiles walked to the elevator, pretending he didn’t listen to Erica’s snort or Scott’s aborted laugh.

Moving in was easy enough in the end. Stiles didn’t have that many things to begin with anyway. He had to leave his bed behind at Scott’s as well as his desk and shelves, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Derek’s spare room was far better furnished than Stiles’ was and it seemed functional enough.

The apartment just as nice as what he’d seen in pictures, even nicer now that he was there in person. The living room was organized and functional, the furniture was well conserved, the kitchen had all the necessary appliances and everything was spotless. It was such a contrast to how disorganized it had been at Scott’s.

Scott’s dad paid for the rent and some bills, as an apology gift of sorts for being a shitty father (a gift that took the entirety of the first year for Scott to accept) but all the rest of the expenses were on the two of them. And they just didn’t make enough to properly furnish the apartment and feed themselves too.

Needless to say, Stiles was instantly in love with Derek’s place.

He walked around the apartment, long after Erica and Scott had left, after all boxes were in Stiles’ new bedroom and pizzas were consumed in celebration. It was a good place to live and Derek was charging way below what he could for the room.

It was a great deal actually.

And Stiles had a good feeling about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are images on this chapter, all of them safe for work. I kept the captions for those that read it on EPUB format or use voice-to-text to read. Enjoy!

As they started getting into a routine around each other Stiles noticed he barely even managed to see Derek throughout the week, despite the fact that they were living under the same roof. Derek had the busiest schedule that Stiles had ever seen and Stiles…well. Stiles had his own life to attend to as well. So it turned out that between the two of them their schedules didn’t meet at all.

The only communication they actually maintained where through post-its, usually glued to the fridge or the door, and…they weren’t _nice_.

_ _

 

> _ <<I hope you enjoyed my Greek yogurt, since I didn’t. -D> > _

It wasn’t Stiles’ fault that in his first week he somehow managed to drink all of Derek’s skim milk, eat his breakfast cereal, and his oh so precious yogurt. Stiles was _adapting_ okay? Derek didn’t need to be salty about it by leaving passive-aggressive notes on the fridge in his stupid perfectly neat handwriting.

 _Rude_.

 

 

> _< <There’s a special place in hell for people that throw away perfectly good pizza. -S>>_

 

 

> _ <<It was in the fridge for a week now. If you want to get food poisoning fine by me. But I would rather you didn’t mess up my bathroom puking it all back up. -D> > _

By the end of the first week there were several yellow (Derek’s) and pink (Stiles’) post-its covering the door of the fridge. And the microwave. And the cabinet.

Derek had complained about the _tiny_ mess Stiles left in the living room after moving in. Sure, a whole week had passed already and Stiles was just being _lazy_ but still. Douche. Stiles complained about Derek’s tendency to hide things in the kitchen. Derek called it tidying up, but how the hell was Stiles supposed to know where the coffee filters were stashed? That was _hiding_ , in Stiles’ opinion.

If Stiles was to be honest, he kind of hated Derek just a little bit. Even if he was attractive. Especially in the mornings. Because first thing in the morning Stiles had to be subjected to Derek Hale in sweatpants. More than once. And damn that man is beautiful.

He was a jerk, but he was one hot jerk.

♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️

Stiles woke up slowly, taking a while coming to senses. There was a pounding ache behind his eyes, like someone had punched his brain repeatedly. He groaned and rolled over in his bed, feeling around for his phone. It was Saturday, which meant the day before was Friday, which _meant_ he had gone out and drank his weight in alcohol.

He had stopped counting after the tenth beer, and he thought he had about three shots – or maybe five, he wasn’t sure. Partying was a huge part of the college experience and Stiles, despite not liking socializing all that much, did his best to have fun in any way he could.

So that was why Erica had managed to drag him to a frat party, with frat boys Stiles despised, and yet they got him to have a good time. Erica had claimed they had to go out so they could celebrate Stiles’ successful move from one apartment to another. Even if it had been a couple weeks since Stiles moved in with Douchenoozle McPerfeccionist. Not that Erica needed the perfect excuse for getting shitfaced. But it wasn’t like Stiles cared what the reason was either. It had been a great night.

His hangover though was far from great.

Stiles dragged himself out of bed, thanking all the deities he knew that it was the weekend and he got to stay in. His mouth tasted like he had licked the hood of his car. And yes he knew that particular taste because he may or may not have licked the hood of his Jeep before.

Squinting at the light, Stiles made his way unsteadily to the kitchen hoping for some water and Advil. He never made it very far though, because there was a body blocking his way and Stiles almost stepped on it.

“Shit, what the fuck?”

Stiles stumbled back and noticed that Erica was completely passed out on his couch much like the person on his floor was.

Upon further inspection Stiles recognized the guy was Isaac, one of Erica’s friends. Stiles didn’t even remember inviting the guy over. Or arriving home for that matter.

Stiles could only stand there, staring at the scene. Erica was passed out on Derek’s couch which was weirdly pushed into a corner of the room. Someone had knocked some books off the coffee table and there was a very suspicious wet spot on the floor that Stiles wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what it was.

He managed to avoid the war zone in the living room and made it to the kitchen where, to his relief, everything seemed more or less in order and clean.

But there was a yellow post it on the fridge, and Stiles winced hoping against hope that it wasn’t about the mess that the living room currently was.

 

> _ <<We need to talk. I’ll be home at 7pm. Be here. -D> > _

_Shit._

“Okay, rise and shine, you two. I gotta get this shit sorted out.”

“Hnnng…” Isaac groaned, and Stiles picked up a lost couch cushion that was discarded on the floor and threw on him. Isaac yelped in response.

“ _Now!_ ”

It took Stiles a while to wake Erica and Isaac up completely and Stiles found out the hard way that Erica is _not_ a morning person, especially not when hungover.

Only when they had finally left, Stiles was able to start cleaning up the mess they all made, all the while nursing a horrible headache of his own. He had to stop cleaning twice to run to the bathroom and throw up. But that only made more work for him because then he had to go and clean the bathroom too because he didn’t make it to the toilet in time. By the time lunch rolled around Stiles had managed to make the apartment look mostly okay.

He was also completely exhausted and incredibly anxious. The entire apartment was impeccably organized and Stiles knew from the very beginning that Derek was a neat freak. Since moving in, basically all of their communication had been moving steadily from passive-aggressive to actually aggressive jabs about Stiles being messy and Derek being annoying about it.

Stiles didn’t even want to imagine how angry he would be about the mess Stiles made. Their living arrangement agreement was still fairly new and Stiles was more than a little worried as he wondered if Derek would kick him out of the apartment.

If that happened Stiles wasn’t even sure where he would live. Scott would surely let him stay in his old room for a while, but he would need to hunt for another place and just thinking about it made him more tired.

Stiles _liked_ this apartment is the thing, and he even liked Derek’s brand of annoyance. It made Stiles pick after himself and that wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Annoying, yes, but definitely not bad.

He went to find his phone. He needed to talk to Scott about this.

 

 

>  < **< Stiles:** i think Derek is going to kick me out
> 
> **Scott:**????? why is that????
> 
> **Stiles:** i fucked up D:
> 
> **Stiles:** erica and isaac were here after yesterday. house was a mess.
> 
> **Stiles:** derek left a note sayin we needed to talk
> 
> **Stiles:** that’s break up talk, scott.
> 
> **Stiles:** in this case, ‘kick stiles out’ talk
> 
> **Scott:** maybe he just wants to talk bro
> 
> **Stiles:** dude is a huge neat freak man!!!
> 
> **Stiles:** hes pissed i can tell
> 
> **Scott:** then say ur sorry n work it out
> 
> **Scott:** if he kicks u out u can crash here
> 
> **Scott:** kira wont mind
> 
> **Stiles:** ur my best bro for a reason  <3
> 
> **Scott:** i know. dont forget to say ur sorry
> 
> **Stiles:** yes mom :p :p :p  >>

Slightly more reassured by Scott’s words, Stiles went to fix himself something light for lunch. And then he was going to take a well deserved nap. Maybe he would even order a pizza before Derek got home. Pizza was a great way of improving anyone’s mood.

Stiles woke up to the door of the apartment closing; he jumped up from the couch and looked around in confusion at the sound. There went the pizza peace offering plan, Stiles realized, as Derek dropped his keys in the bowl by the door and eyed him with his angry eyebrows.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted, waving one hand timidly.

Derek sighed and he nodded back at Stiles. He calmly sat in the armchair after setting his backpack on the floor next to it. In that moment Stiles was struck with the thought that Derek’s apartment was so…grown up. It had a dining table, an arm chair, a couch without holes in it.

And Stiles _liked_ it.

“I know we didn’t have a chance to properly talk about it, but I thought we had an agreement about having people over,” Derek started, tone wary.

Stiles rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel the last tendrils of sleep clinging to him. Straight to the point then.

“If by agreement you mean a _Post-It_ about it, then yeah.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, trying to convey how much he didn’t care for the little notes. They hadn’t really managed to talk after all, it was more petty arguments.

Stiles barely saw Derek in their shared living space, if he saw him at all. He left the apartment before Stiles woke up and he was sleeping when Stiles got back home. All he got were glimpses here and there, mostly hearing Derek leave the apartment at an ungodly hour of the morning. It was weird for Stiles that things were like this; most of the time it felt like he was living alone, which was vastly different from when he lived with Scott and his expansive presence.

“I leave Post-Its because it’s either that, waking you up to talk in the morning, or staying up late to catch you when you get back from work,” Derek groused, looking completely unimpressed by Stiles.

“And I think we both would want to avoid all of those options.”

Stiles shuffled in his seat, feeling awkward. Okay, looking from that angle…

“Yeah, I mean… Okay, it’s…an okay system. And, I know I’m supposed to just give you a warning beforehand when I plan to bring people over. I get that. Last night though was…an unpredictable situation.”

“By unpredictable you mean you were too drunk to send me a text as a heads up,” Derek retorted and Stiles tried not to bristle at the judgement.

He mostly failed, if the way Derek was scowling back at him was anything to go by.

“Hey, it’s my choice if I want to drink, okay? And that is none of your business.”

“No, it isn’t,” Derek agreed. His annoyance was so obvious that Stiles didn’t know if he wanted a full-blown fight or for Derek to stop already.

“But the state in which you left the apartment is,”

Stiles didn’t even try to hold his tongue before arguing back.

“I cleaned it up!”

Derek huffed through his nose, shook his head, and threw Stiles a disappointed look.

“One, that was the _least_ you could do, Stiles,” Derek said in a dry tone, raising one finger to count on as he talked. Stiles opened his mouth to retort, but Derek just kept talking, “ _Two_ , you came back completely smashed last night and woke me up. You woke our _neighbors_ up. I had to listen to Mrs. Smith complain about the noise all morning this morning!”

Stiles bit his tongue to say anything else even more defensive and tried channeling his inner Scott.

What Would Scott Do?

 _Apologize_.

“I’m...sorry, okay?” Stiles said, running his hands through this hair in a nervous gesture, “I’m sorry about the noise and…stuff. I’m just– Things here are different than what I am used to, okay? I am trying to adapt. I’ll be more careful next time.“

Derek deflated a bit, still looking cross, but Stiles was trying and he wasn’t sure he could do better than this. He liked the apartment and he wanted to stay. But he was really bad at keeping his head down and mouth shut.

“I’ll warn you about any impromptu crashing that happens here,” Stiles continued, gaining confidence by Derek’s silence, “but, you know, sometimes I might not be able to. And I know that irritates you, but…shit happens. I will work to try and avoid stuff like this, but, I don’t know, man. You could maybe understand my side of things here.”

Stiles stopped himself from keep babbling, before he said something that made things worse, instead of better. To Derek’s credit, he didn’t explode in Stiles’ face. He just drew his eyebrows together in an angry, but thoughtful glare.

“I know that. I’m not your father, you don’t have to ask me permission. But a heads up is a necessity. I don’t like to have my routine messed up when it could be avoided with one simple text message.

As much as Stiles wanted to, he had to agree that putting like that made it seem much less unreasonable than it first looked like. Stiles didn’t mind surprises as much, because back when he lived with Scott, their apartment was always full of people. But if Derek was disused to that, it would be annoying. Stiles wrinkled his nose in defeat, scuffing at the floor with his feet.

“Fair enough. My bad for today, anyway. We cool?”

Derek snorted, but nodded in agreement.

“Just…don’t do it again,” Derek stood up, picking up his bag and started walking to his bedroom before turning back, “One more thing: your bedroom is smelling up the hallway. Do me a favor and clean it up a little.”

 _What a jerk,_ Stiles thought, even as he thought to himself that he really needed to stop postponing laundry day.

♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the lack of image notes! I lost the damn PSDs! Ugh. I'll probably need to redo all of them so they look similar, because of the fonts, but I decided updating was more important than the images anyway.

Their first fight made things slightly awkward between them, but since they still had opposite schedules they barely saw each other anyway. With Derek going to class very early, and Stiles coming home late because of his night shift at the library, it meant that they kept not meeting face to face much.

The notes kept going though, making it their most utilized communication venue. Stiles started to automatically make his way to the kitchen first thing in the mornings to check what Derek had said, or what he had replied to. At some point it stopped being so annoying and started being almost…fun. Derek was sarcastic in a dry wit sort of way that Stiles enjoyed, even when he was making jabs at Stiles. And Stiles got a chance of poke him right back.

He barely even noticed that a month had already gone by since he moved in. Time flew with college, and work, and trying to maintain a somewhat social life.

“He really leaves you notes?” Scott asked, as he looked at Stiles’ fridge. He picked up the note, “ _If skim milk tastes like water, why do you keep drinking it? Buy your own gross cream to drink._ Really?”

Stiles shrugged, pushing Scott to the side so he can pick up a couple beers to go with the pizza they bought to eat this afternoon.

“I forgot to buy milk, so I drank his? I mean, he never said I couldn’t eat his food and all that. But he’s so healthy, Scott. He drinks no fat milk, and vegetables. There’s kale in this house, Scott. Kale!”

Scott was doing a terrible job of pretending he was not amused.

“Well…the dude is all…muscled. Pretty shredded if you ask me,” Scott said, picking the beers from Stiles’ hands.

Stiles stopped from where he was picking up plates to stare at Scott.

“Oh my God, did you really just say that?”

“He is! Don’t tell me you didn’t notice it!” Scott exclaimed, sounding more amused than defensive about it, “Plates? Really?”

“I cleaned my bedroom and it will stay clean, Scott,” Stiles motions for Scott to go and they make their way to Stiles’ bedroom, “I’ve actually seen him shirtless on occasion. Scotty, my boy…what a sight!”

Scott doubled over laughing, and almost dropped the beers on the floor. Stiles threatened to kick his ass if he did.

They both settled in the bedroom, Stiles stretched on the bed while Scott perched himself on Stiles’ computer chair. They didn’t talk for several minutes while they ate their pizza, only making small comments about how much of an amazing invention cheese was or how perfect ham was. When they were both stuffed full and there was barely any pizza left, Scott eyed Stiles in an inquisitive way that meant he wanted to talk.

“Out with it,” Stiles said, burping to make a point, “What is it?”

“How’s life with Derek?” Scott asked, “I worried about it ever since you two had that fight and all. But…you seem to be fine.” There was a slight intonation of questioning on the end of the sentence, like Scott wasn’t entirely sure about it.

Stiles shrugged, lying on his bed. This mattress was much better than the one Stiles used to have at Scott’s. He _loves_ it.

“It’s…okay?” Stiles ventured, and…well. It was okay. Derek was okay, “Sorta like living with a mom, to be honest?”

Scott snickered.

“Because he’s organized?”

“Yeah. He’s such a mom about things. He complains about me leaving my socks on the couch, man.”

“Well, your socks smell,” Scott said with a giggle and Stiles threw one of his pillows at him for it.

“Rude, Scotty. Rude. But yeah. I mean, it’s annoying, but then he’s…sorta forcing me to keep it tidy and shit. It’s…not all bad?”

“If I only knew that all it took to keep you in line was to nag,” Scott joked, and Stiles looked at him with mock offense.

“Really? Who’s the one who kept leaving dirty underwear on the bathroom doorknob?”

“It was just so I remembered to wash them.”

“I kept touching them on accident, Scott. Not cool,” Stiles whined, making a face and Scott laughed, the asshole, “Anyway, I am not even that much of a slob. What? I am not!”

Scott nodded, slyly getting the last slice of pizza when Stiles wasn’t looking. Stiles yelped in indignation.

“Yeah, fine, you’re not. I remember your bedroom was, like, super tidy back at your dad’s? I always thought that was super atypical.”

Blinking in surprise, Stiles furrowed his eyebrows, both curious and the slightest bit wary of the reason Scott said that.

“Why?” He asked.

“Because, y’know, you didn’t have your Mom around to bug you to do stuff…? And…uh, your dad…”

Stiles sat up, holding his pillow in front of his body like a shield. Scott stopped spinning on his chair, looking curiously at Stiles

“And my dad was too busy with work and drinking his ass off to care,” Stiles completed, opening another beer and drinking a long gulp before putting it down, “Yeah, I know.”

Scott was looking at him with a small smile, his expression wasn’t one of pity, but there was understanding. Scott had been there when Stiles’ mom had died, and he was there during the aftermath, when Stiles’ dad started drinking as a way to cope. Stiles, on the other hand, was just a child with _no_ mechanisms to deal with his loss. His father got promoted to Sheriff, started working overtime more often than not. Stiles had to learn to fend for himself.

It’s a testament to their friendship that Scott learned how to help him go through his panic attacks all by himself when they were both ten.

Scott was a good friend.

“Have you talked to him lately?” Scott asked.

Stiles thought of bluffing to avoid the topic altogether, but he reconsidered.

“Hm. Yeah.”

“And…?

“And what? He’s fine,” Stiles said, tone flippant. He didn’t want to talk about his father. It was bad enough that things between them were so horrible, and Stiles didn’t know how to fix them, “Said he was working less lately.”

“When was the last time you went back to BH?”

“You know when.”

“Stiles.”

“Independence day – don’t give me that look, Scott. I haven’t had the time.”

“You mean you didn’t feel like it, because I went back to Beacon Hills to visit my mom.”

“Scott, things will always be strained between me and my dad, okay? It’s totally different from what’s like with you and your mom. I don’t ask you how you deal with _your_ dad.”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah, because he was a drunk that went away. I had a drunk that stayed there.”

Stiles regretted his words the moment the words were out of his mouth. He clamped his lips together, as Scott jumped up, rightful indignation distorting his features.

“You father was _nothing_ like mine!” He exclaimed and Stiles turned his face away. He knew that. “That’s not fair!”

Stiles deflated and stood up. Scott was right. That wasn’t right.

“I, I just need a second. Be right back.”

Stiles closed the door of the bathroom, taking a deep breath. Ever since his mother had died, his father had taken to drink as an escape from reality. And Stiles _worried._ When he was younger, Stiles had had more than one moment where he had to go and try to carry his dad upstairs because he was too drunk to manage it by himself.

His father had never hit him, even if he had his violent explosions every now and then, mostly he took it out on his bottles, but never on Stiles. This was different from Rafael McCall, who liked to rough Scott up when he was drunk. It was unfair to compare them and Stiles knew it.

But when he looks back at that time in his childhood all he remembers is being scared. Not of being hurt, but scared a neighbor would hear the commotion and call the cops on his father. Scared that he would lose his job. Scared that he would be taken away from his father.

Stiles washed his face and looked at himself in the mirror, scratching the patchy growth of scruff that was coming in weirdly all over his face.

Stiles resented his father for that fear. He couldn’t help it. His drinking got better over time, but there was a weird abyss between them that Stiles didn’t know how to build a bridge over.

“Stiles?”

Stiles paused for a moment. It didn’t help that the entirety of Stiles’ teenage years were spent lying his ass off to his dad about where he was or what he was doing. His father had thought he was on drugs. Stiles got angry he would even think that about him. Stiles got even more cagey about his life, John got even more closed off in general.

“Are you okay, dude? I’m getting worried here.”

If only he could figure out how to not be a stranger to his own father, that would be great.

Stiles took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

“Yeah, man. I’m fine. Sorry.”

Scott didn’t look particularly convinced, so Stiles put on his best smirk and went for his best distraction technique.

“So did I tell you I bought Until Dawn? I got a great deal, Scott, 50% off! You gotta play it, c’mon.”

Scott didn’t look particularly fooled. But he dutifully trailed after Stiles to his bedroom so he could play some PS4.

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Scott had been long gone when Derek finally arrived home. It was already dark outside, but Stiles wasn’t entirely sure what time it was. He was still rather buzzed after drinking what was left of the beer in the fridge with Scott as they played video games. He wasn’t drunk but he was definitely pleasantly relaxed.

“Heeey, Derek,” Stiles greeted, from where he was lying sprawled on the couch. Stiles just knew that Derek would object to the half empty bag of Doritos he had tucked up with him on the couch.

“Hello,” Derek greeted as he left his keys in the bowl by the door, took off his shoes and put his bag down. Stiles had never noticed before that Derek had a ritual of sorts when it came to arriving or leaving home. He would go through the same motions. It was rather cute.

“Didn’t you have work today?”

“Nope,” Stiles answered, popping the ‘p’, “Day off.”

Stiles sat up to watch as Derek diligently divested himself of his jacket, folding it before leaving it on the back of the armchair. There was something interesting in observing Derek. Stiles lamented the fact that he hadn’t really had the opportunity to do so before.

“Ah, true,” Derek said, throwing Stiles a small smile, while he took off his wristwatch, “You mentioned on your note your friend was coming over.”

“Yep, Scott. He did. Come over, that is.”

Derek looked very very interesting wearing just a Henley and jeans while barefoot. Stiles tried not to stare. And failed. Stiles couldn’t help it; Derek was attractive and he attracted Stiles’ attention.

“He didn’t want to stay for dinner?”

Stiles frowned, puzzled at the comment.

“I didn’t make dinner. We had pizza earlier, while playing games,” Stiles said slowly, thinking about it.

Scott and Stiles would rarely do anything that could be remotely called dinner. They would cook whatever was at hand, eat it and go on with their days.

Stiles didn’t know what was a proper dinner in _years_. Last time he had done something even remotely like that was back when he was still living with his dad.

“Well, I was thinking of making some pasta for myself,” Derek cocked his head to the side, oblivious to Stiles shameless ogling, “I don’t mind making a bit more, if you want?”

Surprised, Stiles blinked at Derek for a moment, before blurting.

“Shit, you can cook too?”

Derek raised one eyebrow, looking unimpressed at Stiles’ wonder.

“Why the tone of surprise? I’ve lived alone since I was eighteen. Of course I can cook. It’s not like I’m a chef or anything but I can handle pasta.”

“Yeah, uh. True.”

“Come on, you can help me by grating some cheese for me.”

Stiles nodded and stood up, swaying only a little bit but holding himself straight. Derek frowned but didn’t comment.

“I think I am going to do some Carbonara sauce, if that’s okay for you?”

Ugh, Stiles was so doomed. He was blaming this on the booze, it was completely the alcohol’s fault, but Derek was doing stupid butterfly things to his stomach.

Derek wasn’t lying when he said he could cook, but he was sure downplaying his skills. He was good in the kitchen, moving with confidence like he owned the place (well, technically he did own that kitchen, Stiles thought, but he also did on the metaphorical sense of the word). He gave Stiles instruction, patiently correcting the size of the bacon cubes Stiles was cutting, and how much cheese he needed. Carbonara looked easy when Derek was doing it, and soon enough the water for the pasta was boiling, and the sauce was smelling amazing.

“Jesus, my mouth is watering like woah here,” Stiles commented, as Derek stirred the sauce, and Stiles finally retreated to one of the stools they had in the kitchen.

Derek threw him a smile over his shoulder seemingly pleased with himself.

“Good, because I can guarantee you that it tastes good,”

Stiles laughed, not mockingly, but mostly amused at Derek’s confident tone. Derek seemed completely at ease, which was more in accordance with what Stiles had seen on their first meeting in the coffee shop than the all other times they’ve interacted since.

“Ooh, cocky, Hale! What if it sucks?”

Derek just raised one eyebrow at him. Stiles noticed that that was a thing that Derek did, raise just one caterpillar eyebrow at him.

“Than it’s your fault, since you did most of it.”

“Hey! I followed your instructions!”

Stiles tried to raise just one eyebrow back at Derek, but he suspected he looked weirdly spasmodic trying, if Derek’s confused expression was anything to go by. Stiles just shook his head as an answer.

Derek just snorted and winked at Stiles at that, giving him a full-on smile and ah, crap. Stiles had forgotten how much Derek’s smile was _a thing_ for him.

“Then it’s going to taste great.”

♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️

It did taste great. Stiles had two servings of the pasta moaning and praising Derek for it while he ate. He was immensely pleased to notice that Derek’s ears got red when he was embarrassed.

“So what did you do all day?” Stiles asked, as they carried their dirty plates to the sink to wash them. Derek shamelessly stated that Stiles was on dish duty even though Stiles helped cooking. Stiles didn’t particularly mind.

“Studied,” Derek replied, stretching in his seat, “I like to hit the library on the weekends, because there’s nobody else there. Staying at home is too much of a temptation for me to slack off.”

“Oh, wow, really?” Stiles used more dish soap than needed, but there was no one to complain about it, “I thought you had time to study during the week?”

Derek moved from his booth and quietly started to dry the dishes Stiles had washed without Stiles having to ask him to.

“I do. But I am working on another thesis and that with my main thesis and all my other TA’s duties…it takes a lot of my time.”

Stiles stared at Derek not even caring there was soap suds wetting his shirt.

“Wait, wait, wait! You’re doing _two_ thesis projects?” Stiles gaped, because he could barely do with his workload, god knew grad school was even more insane than undergrad, how the hell was Derek even managing? It wasn’t that absurd now that he barely even saw the man in his own home. “Why? What are they about? _Why_?”

“You do realize you asked me why twice, right?”

“I am baffled why you would put yourself through such pain.”

“It isn’t a pain. I like what I study, I really do,” Derek explained, and his tone told Stiles this wasn’t the first time he had had to explain himself or his motivations. He didn’t look angry, mostly resigned. “When I first graduated, I thought I wanted to work with Classical Literature, but my interests shifted with time. Since I already had a lot of work done instead of scrapping it all I talked to Professor Filcher, my adviser, and we agreed I could try to do two different things at the same time.”

“You’re…you’re insane, you know that, right? How are you keeping up with research, writing, classes, work?”

Derek shrugged, not really offering an explanation on the magic of his productivity. Stiles wanted to shake him and convince him what a terrible idea that was.

Now that Stiles knew how much Derek had to do, it weirdly made sense how grumpy the guy was. Anyone would be grumpy without having time to unwind.

“I am pretty sure Mrs. Filcher only allowed it because she thought I would give up pretty fast,” Derek answered, sounding mostly amused even though a tiny bit of bitterness in his tone didn’t escape Stiles.

“How long ago was that? When did you start on the second project?”

“Six months ago.”

“You’re going to die,” Stiles stated mournfully, flicking some water droplets on him just because he felt like it. Derek retaliated by snapping the dish towel at his arm.

“I’m not going to die, Stiles. I know I’ll eventually have to make a choice, but for now, I am fine.”

Stiles stopped poking at Derek’s academic choices and moved on to whining about his own choices. Derek patiently listened as Stiles moaned about Criminal Justice, about how he actually also liked History, and how he could also easily study English too. Derek nodded and offered input as Stiles said nothing of consequence and they finished the dishes without even noticing.

Derek offered to make some coffee, once again remembering Stiles’ words about not being affected by caffeine anyway, and soon they were back to the living room with steamy mugs in hand.

“And it doesn’t help that Scott finally decided he wants to drop History for Vet School and I don’t even know what to do about it to be honest.”

“So Scott is sure about vet school?”

“Yeah, he is. I told him he would die of boredom in History, but he didn’t believe me until he _actually_ died of boredom.”

Derek chuckled at Stiles’ exaggeration, and Stiles took a weird satisfaction in being able to entertain Derek.

“He’s changing courses by next year. The only good thing that came with him studying History was he met Kira, his fiancée. They are good together.”

Derek nodded patiently, sipping on his mug. Knowing how much Derek worked his ass off Stiles could clearly see the first signs of exhaustion from the dark circles under his eyes. Stiles didn’t even want to imagine the sheer amount of reading Derek had to do.

“What about you?” Derek asked calmly, tucking his feet under himself. He looked relaxed and at ease, and Stiles was still buzzed from the beers he had had earlier. He felt pretty great if he’s being honest.

“Me? I’m studying Criminology.”

Stiles had mentioned it when they first met, possibly in one of the many emails they had exchanged.

“I know that.” Derek shook his head, with a small smile. “You just told me that. I mean how is it going? Are you enjoying it?”

Stiles paused, using his coffee as a way to stall before giving an answer. Was Criminology interesting? Yes. Was he doing well on it? Mostly.

Was he happy with his academic choice? Hard to say.

Stiles put his mug down and rubbed at his scalp, unsure how to voice his insecurities. Derek was looking at him patiently, which was very different from his usual exasperation towards Stiles.

“I guess? I mean…I’ve always said that I would get into Criminology, become a cop, follow my father’s steps, yadda yadda yadda. But I don’t know…”

“Your father is a cop?”

He sounded surprised and Stiles wouldn’t blame him. Stiles most certainly didn’t look like a cop’s kid at first glance.

“He’s the sheriff, actually. It’s…complicated.”

“How so?”

Derek looked puzzled and Stiles resisted the urge to groan and deflect. He was never comfortable talking about his father for a reason. But he was feeling relaxed after dinner, still slightly buzzed from the beers earlier, and his conversation with Scott was still rattling around his skull. Maybe he could let out a thing or two.

“It’s a long story but...the short version is I don’t have the best relationship with my father. Yet somehow, I never envisioned myself doing anything other than working with law enforcement. But now I’m here and I keep seeing people’s passion towards what they study – like you, you know? And I don’t feel that.”

Derek had looked attentively at Stiles as he talked, but it took him a few seconds to say something back. Stiles tried not to squirm under the scrutiny, but he wasn’t good staying still under normal circumstances, let alone when he’s uncomfortable.

“You can always major in Criminology and then minor in something else of your interest,” Derek offered, without any inflexion in his voice. Stiles picked his mug up again, mostly to have something to do with his hands as the coffee was almost gone.

“I know that, but…”

Stiles was frustrated because that was something he had been rolling around in his head for a while. Did he want to work with the police? If not, what did he even want to pursue? He liked History, but he also liked Literature, and he was fond of so many other areas of study. Stiles liked learning, but he liked doing so on his own pace and on whatever topic he could favor. Liking something and _working_ with something for the next few decades of his life was something very different.

“Trust me to have a career crisis now instead back in high school,” Stiles joked trying to lighten the mood.

Derek hummed, shrugging in his seat before standing up. Stiles blinked at him as he extended his hand, gesturing vaguely at the empty mug Stiles was holding. Stiles gave it to him with a muttered thanks.

“My younger sister – she’s your age, by the way – she dropped college last year because she decided she wanted to backpack through South America instead of becoming an accountant,” Derek said, voice curiously devoid of judgement, “My parents flipped, of course. But I’ve never seen her happier than she is now.”

Stiles stared, because he didn’t even know Derek had a younger sister. He had never mentioned family in any of their talks Stiles realized. He was suddenly unbearably curious about Derek’s family. But Derek was already retreating into the kitchen and Stiles wasn’t sure how to broach the subject again.

“Anyway,” Derek said standing by the kitchen’s door, “I have to go work on and sort some things out with my thesis for a bit before I crash. Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Night, Derek.”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for taking so long to post a follow up (this was already written. AND beta'ed), except that I was depressed as hell and on hiatus. BUT here I am.


End file.
